


i’ve been blossoming alone over you

by softresurrection



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Developing Relationship, F/M, Jon and Sansa are Cousins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 13:12:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19830949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softresurrection/pseuds/softresurrection
Summary: Gods, she had been beginning to think that the bastard prince could bring her happiness after all. Why was it that Sansa was proven wrong about him every time?





	i’ve been blossoming alone over you

**Author's Note:**

> yes i have an obsession with this trope and what about it!!!  
> title from pink in the night by my favourite artist mitski  
> as usual, absolutely nothing except my words, belongs to me
> 
> THIS IS IMPORTANT  
> The North was never conquered by the Targaryens. Torrhen Stark never knelt, he stayed North with his huge ass army. He also took Brandon Snow's advice and used the weirwood arrows to shoot down Balerion (Aegon's dragon) and Meraxes (Rhaenys' dragon). Visenya withdrew along with Vhagar, and so the North remained free. 
> 
> Now, the Starks are the rulers of the North. Ned is King because Brandon died in some sort of hunting accident (sloppy plot point but I needed to get him out of the way somehow, didn't I?)
> 
> Sansa was raised believing she would marry a bastard, so she is less into marrying big and whatever. Another thing that contributes to her maturity is that she's a princess herself.

Sansa raised a pale hand, watching a rivulet stream down her forearm, slowly dripping back down into the warmth of the water. The shadow of her shift, white as the Stark sigil, was visible and translucent under the clear water of the spring. 

Although her friends sat beside her, chattering and giggling quietly among themselves, Sansa felt too warm to move or engage in conversation with Beth and Jeyne. She couldn't listen to another word of their fantastical daydreaming anyway. 

Sansa immediately chided herself, it was impolite to think such things of her close friends, even if they were being insufferable. She would have to stop feeling immodestly superior to them, no matter how many times she had to hold herself back from deriding them for their stupidity. 

Sansa found that more often than not, she was warring with herself about the predicament she was in. 

It had all started around her twelfth nameday, seven moons ago, when she had noticed that the girls had started fancying themselves grown enough to talk about the other sex. They had taken to it with abandon, noticing every boy that crossed their path, commenting on his eyes and his smile. At first, Sansa had tried to join in with her friends recklessly. She had giggled about Aden, the boy who worked in the forge, with his blonde hair and clear blue eyes. 

Her mother had put an end to that soon enough, however. Catelyn had pulled her aside one day, and sat her in her lap, in a way she hadn't done since her daughter had been much younger. Her eyes had held a tinge of regret when she'd quietly reminded Sansa of her betrothed. She had looked sad when she'd brought up the simple fact that Sansa's marriage would not just be a family match, but a political match that would bring harmony between the North and the rest of Westeros. Winter was coming and the North needed alliances other than the one with the Riverlands to make it through harsh times.

The queen had plaited her auburn hair with nimble, thin fingers, as if her handiwork could dull Sansa's frustration into something more peaceful. It had not worked. 

Yet, in the moons that had passed since then, the girl had let go of her childish fantasies about Aden. It was not the place of a princess to think about a blacksmith. Sansa scoffed silently, unable to hold back her disdain. Since when had it become the place of a princess to marry a bastard?

•••

Snow fell lightly on the ramparts, dusting their hair with white flakes. It was a soft summer snow, nothing like the famed blizzards of winter that Old Nan always told them of. 

Robb turned towards her, a small smile on his face. He always smiled when he talked to her, her sweet brother. She feared to think about what being king would do to him. Would he become as solemn as their father was? It would not be the worst thing, she supposed. Her father was kind, he was just and honorable, but he was gentle. 

Yet, she could count the number of times Ned Stark had smiled in the past year on one hand. She would need two hands to count Robb's boisterous laughs since the day had started. She didn't want time and burden to take her brother's enchanting smile from him. 

Her brother's enchanting smile which gained him many things. Including friendship. 

"Why've you dragged me all the way up here?" Robb smirked at her. "Is it something unbefitting a princess?"

Sansa almost snorted. "Gods, you're insufferable. I just wanted to talk." She affected her most innocent smile. 

"Of course you did. Is this about the tourney?" Robb leaned back against the stone wall. 

Sansa primly sat down on a wooden block perched near her. "I want to know about Jaeherys." 

Robb spluttered, as if in disbelief. "You? You want to know about Jaeherys? That's new!" He had recovered by the end of the sentence, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Have you been talking to him? He didn't tell me that!"

It was Sansa's turn to gape at him. She, however, regained control of herself much quicker. "No! Of course I haven't been talking to him! I'm just-" She broke off, suddenly feeling almost shy. "I'm just curious, okay? I'm almost thirteen years old and I've never actually put an effort into really getting to know him, and I know you all exchange letters."

Robb's face suddenly turned a hundred times gentler, a hundred times more understanding. "I know it's hard for you to accept him, Sans. I'm happy you're trying."

Sansa lifted her head up towards him, her lips slightly turned upwards. "It is. I'm only asking you because you just met him again at Riverrun for the tourney. The only other person who actually knows him is father and I would rather die than ask him." Sansa almost flushed at the thought of talking to her father about her betrothed. 

Robb laughed. "So, what do you want to ask? He looks a lot like father, if you wanted to know about that."

Sansa stored the information away in her brain, saving it for piecing together an image of Jaeherys. "I want to know if he's kind. Does he laugh? Is he graceful? Bastards are usually uncouth, I've heard."

Robb's brows drew together at her mention of Jaeherys' bastardy. "He's good, Sansa. He has a gentle heart, and a quiet temperament. He doesn't laugh a lot, he's a lot like father in that way as well." He stops, as if thinking how to put his next sentence together. "He's not uncouth. He's not a bastard either, Sansa. He was legitimized and you know that."

Sansa scoffed derisively. "That doesn't change the fact that our aunt and King Rhaegar weren't married when they copulated, does it? He's a bastard." 

"Sansa!" Robb looked frustrated. "He's a prince, isn't that what all girls want?" 

Sansa stared at him icily. It had been a mistake to seek information about Jaeherys after all. "He could never give me anything I don't already have, Robb. All girls aren't princesses."

•••

The kitchen smelled like lemoncakes, a tangy scent hitting the throat as soon as a person walked in. There were cooks and maids bustling about as if it was a market. 

They all paused and stood stock still when Sansa walked through the door with Beth Cassel. At her quiet nod, everyone was at ease once more, continuing with their work. Sansa sat down at the small table near the back of the kitchen, which wasn't visible from the door. 

Beth immediately ran up to the head cook and filched two lemon cakes off her tray, beckoning towards Sansa when the woman began to scold her. The princess sighed, she had already been planning to get the cakes, they were the only reason she had even made her way to the kitchen, but Beth was too obvious, too honest in her intentions. Sansa knew she was young still, but with her low birth, Beth would have to play a lot of games to get a good suitor, something Sansa planned to help her with. 

As Beth walked back towards her, the door was thrown open loudly and Arya walked in. She immediately spotted Beth and Sansa and walked towards the pair. To Sansa's surprise, Arya walked up to her till there was very little space between them. 

"Happy nameday, Sansa. I hope the gods shine bright on you all year." She said the words with such little passion that Sansa knew they were rehearsed. She also knew how much resolution it must have taken for her wild sister to take up the guise of propriety. 

Arya's tunic had stains all over it, unfathomably so as the day had only just started. There was a streak of dirt on her cheek, which Sansa reached out and gently wiped away. 

"Thank you, Arya. I hope those blessings will find you too." She bent forward and kissed Arya's cheek, surprising even herself. Arya and she were not the most perfect picture of two loving sisters, in truth. Nevertheless, it was her thirteenth nameday and the two of them could not fight anymore. At least not in public. 

Her little sister smiled widely at her, all the ladylike manners she had been trying to affect forgotten as she bounced on her toes, suddenly looking excited. "I have something for you!"

Sansa laughed at her enthusiasm, pulling her down towards the table where Beth was still sitting. "What's that? A nameday present?"

"Yes, but not from me! It's from Jaeherys. He sent me a letter and told me to give it to you." Arya reached into the pocket of her trousers, taking out a sheath of paper addressed to Sansa. 

Sansa suppressed her gasp. Jaeherys had never tried to talk to her before. Granted, she had never been very fond of the idea of correspondence with him, but it was the first letter he had ever addressed to her either. She took it from Arya with almost trembling hands, anxious about what the contents would be composed of. 

"It's a big job, Arya. He must trust you very much." Sansa saw Arya's eyes drift towards the letter, and tried to distract her from trying to read it. 

Her plan worked as she had thought it would and Arya smiled proudly. "He does. He told me I couldn't read it and I didn't." 

Sansa absently rubbed her fingers over the seal of the paper, her mind wandering away from the conversation, nodding along as Arya spoke. It was a mystery to her what would be in the letter. She knew it was most probably only pleasantries that he had been forced to write, but the fact that he had was bemusing. 

Soon, Arya got tired of the one sided conversation and swatted at Sansa's hand that held hers. "Gods, you're asleep in there, aren't you?"

Sansa startled, brought back to attention. "No, no, I just drifted away, I'm sorry." She stood up, straightening her gown. "I should go now, Mother sent for me a while ago."

Arya still looked a bit suspicious of her as she accepted her apology and walked out of the kitchen with her. 

Sansa began to worry, she had not actually been summoned by the queen, it had just been a ploy to steal away and read her letter in peace. However, her troubles were cut short when her younger sister excused herself and ran out to the training yard as they passed that door. 

The princess breathed a sigh of relief, thank the gods she hadn't had to fight with Arya to get her to leave. It had been a pleasant day so far and she didn't want herself to have been the one to ruin it. 

As she entered her chambers, she dismissed her maid who was waiting with an actual summons from her father. For once, Sansa shed her manners and decided that her father could wait a few more minutes. 

She tore open the seal and her eyes scanned the letter at her quickest speed. 

To Sansa Stark, the Princess of the North

Dear cousin, I can only hope that this letter found Arya before your nameday. If not, forgive me for the delay in well wishes. 

It is my knowledge that you are now thirteen years old. As you know, I have seen fifteen namedays and I have been told on several occasions that it is high time we talk to each other personally. 

As such, I would like for you to know that I am leaving Dragonstone for Winterfell in four moon's time. I will stay with your family for a few moons, until I am needed back at my castle. 

I wish to get to know you well. 

I hope the gods shine bright on you all year and everything you wish for finds you. Happy nameday, Princess Sansa. 

-Jaeherys Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone. 

His handwriting was beautiful, it looked as if he wrote every letter with utmost focus. It was the print of a prince, not a bastard. 

Sansa shook her head, as if to dispel the thought from her mind. She would have to quit thinking of her betrothed in such negative terms, especially if he was going to make an effort to get to know her. It would not be that hard, she supposed, Robb had told her that he was not crude or unkind. 

After all, Brandon Snow had been a bastard, hadn't he? And he would be remembered forever in the songs of the bards as the savior of Northmen. 

Sansa took a deep breath, and then went to her writing table, beginning her letter with the words,

To Jaeherys Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone. 

•••

The castle was alight with gossip about Sansa's betrothed. Some said that he came to break the betrothal, some said he came to steal their princess away as his father had once stolen her aunt. 

Through it all, Sansa remained calm. Even if she had to fight herself to do it when her friends would natter on about the subject as well. 

At the moment, Sansa was sitting in front of her vanity table, thinking silently while Jeyne chattered as she brushed her hair out. The princess had tuned her out because she knew that Jeyne was still talking about Jaeherys. No one had the courage to gossip with Sansa directly about her betrothed except for Jeyne, who was closer to her than any other friend despite only being a lowborn steward’s daughter.

"Why would he be coming to visit you if he never even replied to your letter?" At this point, she sounded as if she was talking to herself. 

"Maybe it didn't reach him? I don't think he would just leave it unattended if he did receive it." Sometimes it was best to just lighten her heart by talking to her friend. The matter was something that had perturbed and irritated her in equal amounts for almost two moons. 

She knew that Jaeherys had not stopped sending letters to the rest of her family as Robb had informed her when the prince had told him that he was leaving for the North. 

Soon, he would arrive. Maybe then she could ask him. Sansa almost felt giddy at the thought of finally meeting her betrothed in a fortnight. 

She would have answers to all the questions in her mind, then. 

•••

The courtyard was fit to bursting with people. The entire household had gathered to greet the Southron prince when he arrived. The Starks stood in front of the entrance to the keep, lined up to honor the royalty of another kingdom. 

Sansa's heart beat faster and faster as the time passed. She barely even noticed her surroundings, too caught up in her own nerves. Her hand reached the crown of her head, smoothing down her fiery hair. Queen Catelyn had made it that morn, creating two plaits at the top of her hair, leaving the rest of Sansa's thick locks to cascade down her back. It was as Northern a fashion as could be. 

Finally, the royal party became visible from the open gates of the castle. At the very head of the procession was her betrothed. She knew him at once, even from such a distance. As his horse trotted closer and closer, she was able to make out the finer details of his appearance. 

Gods, Robb had been right, he really did look a lot like the King in the North. Jaeherys' face was as long as Eddard's. His skin looked as if it were carved out of the same unflinching, stoic marble. 

By the time Jaeherys entered the iron gates, if felt as if Sansa was holding her breath. He stopped his steed in the middle of the courtyard, jumping off without much care. The prince walked first to his uncle, the King. As courtesy dictated, he bowed deeply before taking a step closer. 

"It is good to see you in health, your grace." Jaeherys' voice was deep, not as gruff as her father's but lower than Robb's. 

"As it is you, nephew." Ned's voice held much affection as he pulled his sister's son into a quick, familial embrace. 

Sansa's gaze had been so stuck upon Jaeherys that she had not noticed the litter which now stood before them in the ground. Queen Lyanna, Jaeherys' mother, descended from the carriage. 

She was every inch a Northern beauty, with her brown hair and grey eyes. She resembled Arya as Jaeherys resembled Ned. Sansa had never met her aunt before but she knew that her father was not in good relations with her. Surprisingly, Sansa hadn't considered the fact that she would meet her future goodmother along with her betrothed. 

As she watched, Queen Lyanna walked up behind her son as he moved on to greet Queen Catelyn, which he did formally and quickly, moving on to where Robb stood beside her. 

Sansa could not keep her eyes on her aunt any longer, instead opting to look down and hear Robb and Jaeherys speaking. 

"Your hair has grown much longer since we last saw you, Jaeherys. When are you starting to put ribbons in?" Robb spoke jovially, a sure smirk on his lips. 

Jaeherys, despite looking much more solemn than Sansa's brother ever could, spoke just as surely. "On the other hand, you haven't grown much since I last saw you, cousin."

Sansa waited with bated breath for a quick second until Robb laughed and pulled Jaeherys into a hug. 

Next, there was Sansa. She steeled herself, not willing to give any emotion away by her face. Jaeherys stepped in front of her and looked right into her eyes. 

"It is a pleasure to see you, princess." Up close, Sansa noticed that he had flecks of violet in his serious grey eyes. 

"The pleasure is mine, my prince." Sansa smiled at him. 

Sansa noticed that he did not smile back, although he nodded before moving along.  
The utter lack of reaction to her would not have stung her so if the person next to her hadn't been Arya. 

Jaeherys hugged her sister before even speaking a greeting, as if she was his sister as well. As he pulled back, there was a wide grin on his face. "I am so glad to finally meet you."

"Me too, I really wanted to know what you look like!" Arya spoke excitedly. Her manner of speaking always reflected her young age, it only went further to show how she was completely different from Sansa in every way. 

Sansa tuned out the rest of her family as she retreated to her thoughts. The prince had been polite, it could not be denied, but Robb had said that he was kind. Would a kind man not reassure his betrothed with a smile? 

Jaeherys had been so familial with Robb and Arya, her mind reminded her. He must have written to them very often. Sansa felt despair begin to take over. If he loved Arya's company that much, he could never enjoy Sansa's. 

In a single sentence, Jaeherys had managed to wipe away all of the secret wishes that Sansa had been harboring in her heart. Gone were the thoughts of long walks in the godswood and daydreams of dancing. She had even thought out a plan which they could have used to visit the large Wintertown market in disguise. Yet, Sansa couldn't force her betrothed to enjoy spending time with her. 

Gods, she had been beginning to think that the bastard prince could bring her happiness after all. Why was it that Sansa was proven wrong about him every time?

••• 

The ginger tea that Nan had told the cook to brew was hot enough to make Sansa's fingers tingle as she held the cup. According to her mother and Nan, the tea would help clear up her sore throat and runny nose. 

Sansa had fallen sick the day after Jaeherys had arrived at Winterfell. Nothing serious had happened but due to her fainting fit in the Great Hall during the welcome feast, everyone had become immensely worried. 

It almost seemed too coincidental, her falling sick on the day that her cousin had arrived. Maybe her body sensed that she needed a break from disappointment at the hands of her betrothed and had decided to take a leave. 

Yet, three days past Jaeherys' arrival, Sansa felt well enough to leave the relative comfort of her bed and walk around. She slipped away from her handmaids after taking the tea from them and arrived at one of the smaller courtyards of Winterfell, where a few young boys were training with an older one. Sansa could not make out their faces. There was a clear path to the godswood from the yard, and Sansa decided to take it. She needed to meditate and among the weirwoods was as good a place as any. 

As she walked along the path, to the side of the training yard, she tried to walk straight although she felt a little dizzy, as if from exerting herself overly much. Sansa stopped in her tracks, contemplating whether the silence in the godswood was worth having her body be even more exhausted from all the walking. 

Suddenly, she heard a shout very close behind her and as she turned to observe the spectacle, a body heavily collided with her own. The mug she was holding immediately overturned and splashed onto Sansa, who was fortunately wearing a cloak that served to protect her from most of the piping hot tea. 

Yet, her hands and stomach were doused with the liquid, which caused her to scream. At first glance, the boy who had run into her was young, heavyset with a round, horrified face. 

Good, Sansa found herself thinking, it was good that he was terrified. He had burnt the Princess of Winterfell, how dare he just stand there? 

However, the second she opened her mouth to speak, a second figure appeared behind the boy. 

"Mycah! Who'd you bump into now, idiot?" The voice belonged to a girl. A short girl, with shaggy brown hair, and grey eyes. A girl Sansa was going to murder in her sleep that night. 

"Arya! Is this your friend?" Sansa's voice trembled with anger as she raised herself from the ground unassisted. The skin of her stomach felt like it was being stretched out into thin fabric, the pain making itself apparent in her movements. 

"Gods, crap, Sansa, are you okay?" Arya had finally noticed her sister, along with the shattered teacup and spilled tea on the ground. 

Sansa felt so rageful that she had to pinch her already aching hand to stop herself from screaming loudly at Arya in the middle of the courtyard. She knew that everyone who had been training was now staring at the two princesses in their midst. 

"Oh, just you wait till I tell mother about this, Arya." Sansa removed the soaking cloak from her body and threw it at the ground. "And you, boy, do you not have eyes that work?"

Arya actually looked scared of Sansa, the wrath in her eyes apparently influential enough to cow even her wild younger sister. "Don't tell mother, Sans, I promise I'll do anything you want. It's not Mycah's fault! I told him to run as fast as he could and you just stopped in the middle of walking! How was he to know he had to sidestep you?" 

Sansa's face screwed up with the concentration it took to hold herself back from shrieking. She had been having a series of awful days, starting with the one where her betrothed had given her almost no attention on his arrival. The day past, he had finally come to her chambers to visit her in her illness, yet he had been so formal that it might as well have been her mother he was speaking to. And now, she had a burnt stomach that might even leave a scar. She was in no place to forgive anyone for any wrong done to her or let herself be blamed for it. 

Just as she started speaking, she noticed somebody walking up to them from the courtyard. On a closer look, the person proved to be Jaeherys. Sansa restrained herself from sighing, he was just what the day needed to become ever worse. Him, with his indifference and his politeness. 

"Arya. Princess. Are you girls okay?" He directed his words towards Sansa, walking closer to her. 

Sansa opened her mouth to give him a reassurance which would make him leave just as Arya yelled, "No! Jaeherys, Mycah accidentally ran into Sansa and sort of hurt her and now she's going to tell mother and have him executed!", and then the girl promptly burst into tears. 

Jaeherys and Sansa both stared at her with open mouths. Sansa's eyes were still wide with shock as her betrothed turned towards her, looking shocked and disgusted in equal parts. 

Sansa was quick to jump to her defense, as surprised by Arya's words as Jaeherys was. "I said I'd tell mother that it's your fault, Arya! What do you even mean, execute? I meant that she would stop you from hanging around these boys, not that I would make her kill him!"

Arya's eyes stopped gushing as she looked up, looking as childlike as her age truly dictated. "Really? You're not going to have him go either?"

Sansa sighed. Her stomach still hurt and she did not have the time to argue with Arya anymore, she needed to go to Maester Luwin. "No, Arya. I'm not going to kill him or have him leave. I was just scolding him for spilling my tea and making me burn myself. Do you really think I'm that evil?" Her voice was resigned as she moved away from the other three people standing there, and started walking up to the keep, where she could call for the maester. 

When she had almost reached the keep, Sansa heard the sound of footsteps behind her, as if walking fast to catch up with her. She only turned her head when the person was by her side. Prince Jaeherys smiled at her. 

Sansa was taken aback, his smile transformed him from good looking to disarmingly handsome. She wondered why he didn't wear it more often. Unable to help herself, she smiled back at him, ten times smaller than her normal beaming grin, but still a smile. 

Jaeherys spoke first. "Do you need help with getting Maester Luwin? I didn't realize you were burnt or I would have taken you there immediately."

Sansa noticed that none of his usual courtesies were present in his words. They were almost spoke in the tone which he used with Arya or Robb, unrestrained and free. 

"I'll make it, thank you." Then, to not make it seem as if she was dismissing him, she continued speaking. "It seems like I'm always ailed by one thing or the other these days." She quirked her lips again, shaking her head at her own tendency to find trouble. 

"This wasn't your fault. It was that boy's and even Arya's. Then she made the situation worse by accusing you of absurd things while you were already in pain. She says sorry for that, by the way." Jon spoke solidly, leaving no room for argument. 

"I suppose. I just- it’s just so horrible that she would think that I'm horrid enough to order her friend dead. No matter what I do, she sees me as a tyrant." Sansa stopped walking as they reached the keep. She was unsure whether Jaeherys wanted to go in with her as well. 

She did not have to wonder about that for much longer as Jaeherys opened the door, ushering her in. As they entered, he spoke gently to her.

"Arya's a child. You two bicker sometimes, like all sisters do, and she's a dramatic person. She twisted the situation in her head into something it was not and reached a completely wrong conclusion. That doesn't mean that you're a bad person, or a bad sister. Don't take it to heart, okay? You handled it better than most people I know would have." By the end of his little speech, Sansa almost felt like crying. It was a relief to hear those words from someone who knew Arya well enough to understand how her mind worked. The two of them continued to walk through the hall quietly as Sansa tried to work out a response that encapsulated her gratefulness. 

When they had almost reached her chambers, Sansa spotted one of her handmaids and called to her, sending her to quickly summon Maester Luwin. 

"These are your chambers, I suppose? Jaeherys pointed at her door as they reached her rooms. 

Sansa nodded her head, confused as to why he knew that. The prince understood her unspoken question, quickly explaining himself. "I brought Arya back to hers after her riding lesson yesterday." He motioned towards Arya's door. 

"That explains it." Sansa took a deep breath, getting ready for her next sentence. "You really calmed me down today, my prince. Thank you for your company."

Jaeherys smiled once again at her, a small, kind smile. Robb had called his smiles rare, and yet, Sansa had seen him smile twice in the few minutes they had spent together. 

"I thank you for yours, princess. I would like to have it once more, tomorrow if you have the time?" Jaeherys looked nervous as he spoke. "If you feel better, that is. Of course."

Sansa felt like grinning at him. "Princes are used to getting things they desire, aren't they? Far be it from me to break that habit of yours." 

After speaking, she turned to walk back into her room, silently flinching at the brush of her stomach with the fabric of her gown. She heard a quiet laugh behind her. 

She smiled again as she shut the door, unable to help herself. 

Maybe the gods had taken mercy after the past few days of misery that they had given her. It was no long walk in the godswood, but their walk through the keep to her chambers somehow felt like a better idea. Sansa shook her head, laughing at herself, maybe the pain had finally gotten to her head after all. 

•••

The gown that Jeyne had laid out on the bed was one that Sansa had painstakingly slaved over for countless hours, the first one that she had sewn completely by herself. That meant that it was a few years old, with a hem that she'd had to fix many times. Yet, it was one of Sansa's favorite dresses. 

When they had been children, Arya had always scoffed at her sister for her interest in embroidery and her uncanny talent with a needle. Once, Sansa had corrected her sister in the way she pulled a stitch and Arya had thrown the entire cloth at her, screaming that she'd had enough of hearing snide remarks about her needlework. 

Much later, when they had started speaking again, Arya having forgotten the fight, Sansa had spoken up. When she had gone to her personal chest and come back with a wooden box, Arya had only looked confused. After she'd opened it and took out a hundred pieces of cloth with uneven, frayed embroidery, her sister's bewilderment had only grown. It had taken Arya a minute to understand what Sansa had been showing her. 

It was one thing that Sansa had never boasted to her mother about, or the septa, because it had been a private sort of joy for her when Arya had at least started appearing for their lessons from that day onwards. 

It had been a happiness that, at the very least, Arya did not think she was some sort of lazy ninny anymore. The dress had been Sansa's way of proving herself. 

It was with that thought in mind that she pulled it on, turning to allow Jeyne to tie the intricate web of laces. She needed some reassurance for her afternoon with Prince Jaeherys. He had sent an invitation for lunch in his solar, which was going largely unused as the chambers did not have a grown man residing within them but a young boy. 

"Do you think he'll kiss you?" Jeyne chattered excitedly at Sansa's back, finally patting her shoulders as she finished with the laces. 

Sansa whirled around, too caught up in her own nerves to reprimand Jeyne for being so open about such things. "Gods, I hadn't thought about that. Do you think he will? Should I let him if he tries?"

"Of course you should! It's not that improper, anyway. He's a prince and you're a princess. And you're already betrothed, too." Jeyne spoke in her most convincing voice. 

Sansa started replying, then promptly shut her mouth. "Why are we even talking about this? It's a lunch, Jeyne. We aren't going to sordidly elope or anything." She moved towards the door. "Now come! We shouldn't keep him waiting this long, its rude."

Jeyne giggled behind her, rushing to match up with her friend's long strides. "You sound eager, Sansa. If I didn't know better, I'd say you couldn't wait to see him!" 

Sansa blindly swatted behind her, not willing to let Jeyne see the flush her words had evoked on Sansa's face. "Shut your mouth! We're almost there."

As they reached the prince's doors, Sansa reached up to touch her hair in it's elaborate updo. She smoothed the skirts of her gown over and breathed deep before knocking twice. 

The door opened within seconds, almost as if Jaeherys had been waiting on the other side of it. "Princess. I'm glad to see you, I was beginning to think you would not be coming."

He stepped aside, leaving a clear view to the table set to the corner of the room on which lunch had already been served. Sansa walked in, gesturing to Jeyne that it was okay to leave. 

"I was only a little late, wasn't I? Have we that low expectations in our minds?" Sansa could not resist teasing him. She had made sure to arrive on time, if a few minutes late so as to not appear too eager. 

Jaeherys pulled her chair out for her, allowing her to sit down before he went across to his own seat. "Of course not. You just look like the sort of lady who never arrives a moment late."

Sansa smiled, it made her heart clench to think that he could tell that about her from the few minutes they had spent in each other's company. "I concede, I concede. Your observations are right, my prince, I was only held up by a friend who ambushed me in the hall." As she lied through her teeth, she wondered if he would ever know her well enough to discern her truth from her fibs. 

"Do you call your friends by their titles, princess?" The prince filled his bowl with the rich goat stew set on the table, speaking as if the fact that the question had no correlation to the previous conversation was unimportant. 

Sansa felt confused. What sort of question was that? "I call them by their names, as I have allowed them to call me. Why?" 

"Oh, no matter," Prince Jaeherys wiped his mouth after taking a bite of his buttered carrots. "I only ask because I was wondering. Aren't we friends?" 

Sansa almost choked on her lamprey pie. Her confusion gave way to clarity, and she almost wanted to laugh at the way that her betrothed had asked her to set aside the formalities between them. He seemed more and more like a prince every minute that he spoke, his grace only matched by her brother. 

"I do believe we are, Jaeherys." Sansa waited for his response with her breath stuck in her throat. She had not misread his words, had she?

Her fit of self-doubt broke as she saw a smile on his face. "I'm glad to hear it. I like the sound of 'princess' for you, however."

Sansa laughed, a tinkling sound that she had perfected in her early years. "I don't think that's fair! Unless you want me to be formal again, I suppose. Do you want that, Jaeherys?" 

The prince looked amused. He raised up the hand which was not holding a fork as if in surrender. "You win this round, Sansa." 

"You'll find I'm not fond of losing." Sansa smiled coyly as her lips touched the rim of her glass, the honeyed wine slipping down her throat easily, warming her immediately. 

Jaeherys smiled broadly at that, almost challenging. "Neither am I. We'll make a pleasant match." 

Gods, his grin really was charming enough to be detrimental to Sansa's mental state. She feared she would not be able to stop thinking about it for days to come. 

"Are you feeling okay?" Sansa snapped back to attention at Jaeherys' concerned tone. 

She flushed, feeling the heat rise on her face. Her hands immediately went to her hair, as they always did when she felt nervous. The feel of the coiled updo that her locks were currently trapped in was definitely not as comforting as running her fingers through her open hair. 

"Yes," Sansa cleared her throat, "Yes, of course. I just got a little distracted, I'm sorry."

The prince's eyes went up to her head, then he looked back into her eyes. "I hope you don't take offense, Sansa, you truly do look radiant today, but your hair is too beautiful to be tied up like this." 

Sansa's eyes widened, her surprise at Jaeherys' boldness making itself apparent. It was quickly followed by a feeing of relief as well as a warmth in her chest which she firmly told herself was not due to his compliment. "I don't mind, Jaeherys. The truth is, I asked my handmaid to do my hair in a more southron style, so that you do not feel like I am completely foreign to your lifestyle. I much prefer my hair open as well." 

Jaeherys grinned once more, his eyes crinkling. "You wore it like this for me? I must confess, I like it much better now."

Sansa giggled, his flirtatious attitude was not something that she'd ever associated with her betrothed but she was delighted by it. "I shall wear it however you want for the rest of your stay."

"I might never be able to leave, then, would your parents mind terribly?" Jaeherys' eyes twinkled. 

Sansa felt like she was made bolder by his words. The afternoon had just about completely changed the image she had created of her betrothed in her own mind. “I don't know about them, but I don't think I would."

Jaeherys almost looked surprised at her words. “Then that’s all that matters, I suppose.”

Sansa held back her smile, daintily wiping her mouth as she finished her meal. “I suppose it is.” 

At Jaeherys’ lack of response, Sansa reached forward and patted his hand, before pulling back her chair and standing. “This was a delightful lunch, my prince.”

Her betrothed stood up as she did, taking a few steps toward her. “It was, princess. I deeply enjoyed your company. I would like to go riding with you tomorrow, if you please.”

Sansa’s heart sang at the feeling of being truly courted. The emotions he brought up in her were nothing like the wariness that she had always associated with him before. “I would love to, Jaeherys. Just so you know, I’m not the most brilliant rider, though, so I won’t be much of a racer.”

Jaeherys laughed. “I admire your honesty but Arya already told me that when I asked her for advice.”

“You asked her for advice? How sweet.” Sansa spoke teasingly. 

Jaeherys bent his head, and when he raised it, there was a slightly red tint to his face that made his hidden blush plain to see. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Sansa? Noon.”

Sansa smiled, his avoidance speaking measures to her. “You’ll see me.”

•••

**Author's Note:**

> i know this doesn’t reach any conclusive end but i’m not sure if i want to finish it really


End file.
